I didn't know what to do. I've always been like that.

Tifa was out walking in Sector Seven. She needed the space to think. When she landed in Midgar five years ago, she never dreamed she would ever feel so at home here. Tifa had her own apartment, she had friends, she managed a successful bar. Tifa loved Seventh Heaven, was proud of it.

But some days, she felt the walls closing in around her. Customers talking and talking. Her smile becoming more strained. Something always needed fixing – the water heater, the refrigerator. And Tifa was increasingly uneasy about her role in AVALANCHE.

When Tifa first met Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge, she had been desperately lonely. And so very angry. But more than that, she had been directionless. Jessie had first introduced Tifa to AVALANCHE, but Barret had been the one to truly bring them together, uniting them in purpose. It had been everything Tifa needed.

For a while, anyways.

Her anger was burning out, giving space for her loneliness to grow again. And with that space, there came room for doubts. Was this truly the right thing to do? Did they really have no other options? Were they actually making a difference, and even if they were, was it worth it?

Tifa was not sure anymore. But she also was not sure how to express her conflicted feelings to her friends. She was in over her head.

Tonight had been especially stifling, misgivings and questions crowding her mind. She had served the incorrect drink to two customers in a row. A third drink, she had spilled, nearly causing a fight when a regular accused another customer of tripping Tifa. Spilling a drink was unheard of for her.

Biggs had quickly agreed when Tifa asked him to cover the bar for a bit. She was grateful that he had not questioned her. Although, if it had not been for the spilt drink, likely no one would have even noticed anything was off. Tifa was practiced at pretending nothing was wrong.

She walked briskly now, her mind half on her surroundings, half on her spiraling thoughts. Tifa had lived in the slums long enough to know better than to get entirely lost in her head when she was out alone. But still, she needed to think.

"Another mako junkie…ugh."

The station worker's voice interrupted her thoughts. Tifa was approaching the Sector Seven train station. Although the slums were rough in general, the train station tended to be especially depressing. Its benches and covered waiting areas attracted those who had nowhere else to go. Tifa sometimes came here with Marle, to pass out leftover food from Seventh Heaven and help where she could.

Mako users were not an uncommon sight. Marle helped them often. She had a soft spot for them, having lost more than one friend to the addiction in her old Wall Street days. Marle had even given one of them, Marco, an apartment in the same building as Tifa. Tifa helped check in on him whenever she could.

The station worker was walking away, shaking his head. "Poor kid."

Glad for the distraction, Tifa approached the slumped figure against the station wall. He was young, but he looked bad. His head was hanging low, and he let out occasional, pained moans. She knelt by him, trying to get a look at his face.

"Hey there, are you alright?" she asked.

At her voice, the man lifted his head. Their eyes met. All Tifa processed at first was the glow in his. It must have been bad, his mako use. But then she noticed how blue the eyes were. They tugged at something in her chest – something old and familiar and painful.

The man spoke. "Uh…Tifa?"

He got to his feet, startling her. She stood as well, taking a cautious step back. Now standing, she was able to get a proper look at him. He stood just a few inches taller than Tifa and was lean, but well-muscled. He wore a massive sword on his back and was uniformed – a SOLDIER? And how did he know her name?

Tifa took another step back.

"Tifa!" he said again, more confidently this time.

She was wondering if she should run when something in his face stopped her. The man's face was fine boned. He was handsome – beautiful, really – despite the suggested brutality of his weapon and musculature.

It was not his beauty that stopped Tifa, though. It was that strange familiarity she felt before when she saw his eyes. There was something, too, in the way he said her name. She did not know why, but she was certain he knew her, really knew her. And he looked at her like –

Well, Tifa was not really sure how to describe how he was looking at her. It was somehow both similar but also quite different from how men usually looked at her.

Something suddenly clicked. "Cloud?!"

The man nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

"That's right," he said. "Cloud."

For a moment, Tifa was lost for words. She had last seen Cloud seven years ago, but it was a lifetime ago for Tifa. She had not thought of that night in years, had hardly allowed herself to think about her life from before at all. It was too hard.

She had been a hopeful thirteen-year-old. Well-loved, cherished and protected by her father. The riskiest thing she had ever done was sneak out at night to meet Cloud at the water tower. She had worn her most favorite blue dress and sandals.

Tifa had made him promise he would come save her if she was ever in trouble. The sky had been filled with stars and he had looked so cute sitting there waiting for her. It had felt like a terribly romantic thing to ask him.

She had been so young and so silly. Tifa, at thirteen, would not have even been able to imagine the things she would someday do, the things that would someday be done to her. Tifa had learned the hard way that no hero could save her from life's hardships. She had to rescue herself.

Admittedly, Tifa felt like she had not been doing a very good job of it lately.

"Cloud," Tifa said. "I can't believe it. I never thought I would see you again."

"It's been a while," he agreed.

Tifa studied him. Although he was on his feet, he still looked unwell, the glow of his eyes standing out against his pale face. He looked like he needed a meal, a good night's sleep, and perhaps also a doctor.

"Are you okay?" Tifa asked. "Did something happen to you? You look…"

She trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence without insulting him.

He shrugged, giving her a cocky look. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

Tifa turned away, hoping he did not see her blush. It was Cloud, Tifa was certain of it. She knew him, his face, his eyes, his voice. And that hair was unmistakable. But he was different from how Tifa remembered him, no longer the shy boy she had once known.

"What brought you to Midgar?" Tifa asked.

She remembered that Midgar was where he was headed all the years ago. To become a SOLDIER. The best of the best. Like Sephiroth. Tifa tried not to shudder.

Cloud was not answering her question. When she turned back to him, his brow was furrowed. Like he was having some sort of internal battle.

"You're…" Tifa hesitated. "A SOLDIER, right?"

He flinched at the word, grabbing his head. It looked like he was in pain. Concerned, Tifa reached out, placing a hand on his upper arm.

"Hey, you alright?"

Cloud looked up at her again. The pain slowly left his face.

"Ex-SOLDIER," he said.

His voice was emphatic, like he felt strongly about the distinction. Like it was important to him that she knew he was no longer a SOLDIER. Tifa offered him a tentative smile. He did not return it, but continued watching her. His face was unreadable to her.

Tifa realized she still had her hand on his arm. She dropped it hastily, certain this time he would have noticed her blush.

"You must be looking for work then, right?"

Cloud nodded.

Everything had unfolded from there. Cloud joined Tifa on her walk. He told Tifa how he had come to Midgar looking for work as a mercenary. Tifa probed about what he had been up to since they last saw one another, but he was cagey and deflected her questions. Wary of being rude, Tifa did not push.

"What about you?" he asked. "What have you been up these past five years? I was worried about you, after what happened back at home."

The question startled Tifa.

"How did you –"

She met his mako-altered eyes and the question died in her throat. As far as she knew, Shinra had lied to the world, hiding what had happened at Nibelheim. Cloud had been a SOLIDIER. Had he learned the truth? Is that why he had left?

Tifa wanted to ask him, but if felt too personal a question to ask a childhood friend she had not seen in seven years. And besides, it was too close to topics she, herself, was not ready to discuss. Her father's death. Her own painful injury and recovery.

So she told him about Seventh Heaven instead. How she had started a new life in Sector Seven. Working at the bar, she usually did more listening than talking. But she talked to Cloud now as they walked together, becoming increasingly animated. At some point, she realized she was smiling. Cloud listened, watching her all the while.

Tifa came to an abrupt stop when she realized she had led them back to Seventh Heaven. This is where the walk should end, for her anyways. But she was not ready for Cloud to go.

She wanted to talk with him more, to find out what he knew about Nibelheim. It felt foreign to speak with someone from her hometown, someone who might understand a bit of her pain. Tifa found that she wanted to hold onto the feeling. She wanted to hold onto him.

"So, a mercenary, huh?"

He nodded.

Tifa bit her lip, debating. AVALANCHE had a mission coming up. It was already decided that Tifa would be staying behind. She did not want to, but the others could tell that she had been reluctant lately. It was a delicate mission. They needed to be focused.

But they were low on manpower. Tifa eyed the breadth of Cloud's shoulders, the heft of the weapon strapped to his back. His muscles. Ex-SOLDIER. He was more than capable of supporting this mission.

And Tifa did not want him to go away.

Tifa was floating, caught between dreams and a reality that she struggled to make sense of. Her dreams, at times, were terrible. The worst of her memories, warped and nightmarish. But there were good dreams too. Cloud walking next to her in Sector Seven. Aerith's smile.

There was mostly emptiness, an all-consuming blackness that wiped away memories and pain. Tifa found it comforting. She could stay in this darkness forever. Why wake up, when all that awaited her was pain?

If Tifa could stay there by will alone, she might have. But she could not.

Tifa had woken before in an unfamiliar place to the unfamiliar faces of doctors and nurses. Alone and facing the worst hurt of her life. When Tifa first managed to open her eyes, she thought perhaps it was just another nightmare. She was fifteen again, stitches barely holding her chest together.

She struggled at first. There were tubes in her arms. Tifa wanted them out, but she was too weak to remove them. A hand covered her own. Tifa cried out weakly.

"Hey, now. Easy," a deep voice consoled. "You're okay. You're safe."

The hand that held hers was huge. It moved to her forehead, stroking back her bangs. Tifa recognized the voice. Barret? It was strange, though. He was speaking to her softly. It was a voice he only ever used with Marlene.

"Doctor says you'll be alright. But you need to rest up. So, sleep now, okay?"

Tifa gladly returned to the empty darkness.

When she woke again, her head felt clearer. She felt weak, though, so weak. There was a hollow feeling inside her chest. An emptiness that ached.

She blinked at the ceiling above her, trying to adjust to the bright florescent lighting. The tubes had been removed from her arms. Tifa was in a hospital bed, wearing a thin cloth gown. A light blanket covered her.

"There she is!"

Barret's face hovered over her. He looked relieved.

"The doctor said you only needed time, but I was starting to worry," he said.

Tifa struggled to sit up and Barret rushed to help her. She grabbed the forearm of his gun arm and he pulled her up, stacking pillows behind her with the other.

"Where are we?" she asked hoarsely.

Her throat felt raw, out of use. Barret handed her a cup of water with a straw.

"Sip slowly," he directed. "We're in Junon. You've been out for a while."

Tifa obeyed, taking a few cautious sips.

"How long?"

"Seven days," Barret told her. "You got caught in the blast from the Weapon, knocked you out cold. Hit your head pretty good too."

Seven days. Tifa had lost an entire week. She stared down at her hands, loosely holding the water cup. She had lost more than that.

Barret cleared his throat. "You gonna ask about him?"

Tifa did not look up from her hands.

"I'm afraid to ask."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Barret sighed and patted her on the shoulder.

"Doesn't matter much anyways. I don't know any more than you do. Nobody has seen Cloud since. But that crazy scientist, Hojo, thinks he's still alive."

Despite herself, Tifa's heart lurched. Alive. Cloud might still be alive. She swallowed and continued staring down at her hands.

"They've been looking for Cloud," Barret said. "Shinra. Hojo. Rufus. Think they can use him to get back into the Northern Crater. To get to Sephiroth."

"Get back into…?"

Barret continued, encouraged by Tifa's weak display of interest.

"There's a barrier around the crater," he explained. "Nobody's been able to get in. We can't do a damn thing about it. And on top of it all, the Weapons have been on a rampage, tearing shit up."

Why? Tifa wondered. Surely the Weapons were defending the Planet, fighting Sephiroth. Tifa had seen it herself. Why were they attacking now? A sudden, terrible realization came to Tifa's still waking mind.

"The Black Materia…Meteor…"

Barret looked at her for a long moment before standing up from her bedside. He walked over to the window. The shades were pulled down. He stood there, holding the cords to the blinds. Hesitating.

"Not sure you're in any state to be seeing this," he mumbled. "But I supposed you'll have to eventually."

He opened the blinds.

It took Tifa several moments to process what she was seeing. The sky stretched before her. Blue, limitless. A massive shape hung in it. At first, it looked to Tifa like a hole had been torn in the sky. A bloody, monstrous hole. Black and red and fiery.

It was Meteor. The sight of it filled Tifa with dread.

She remembered how the Black Materia had looked in Cloud's palm. Ominous. Malicious. Tifa looked away from the window.

Barret came back to sit in the chair by her bedside. He was watching her, cautiously.

"Is this it then?" Tifa asked.

He shook his head. "I dunno."

Even in her numb state, the answer surprised Tifa. As long as she had known him, any reference to giving up had provoked Barret into anger. Now, as he glanced back out the window at Meteor, he looked almost as defeated as Tifa felt.

"Not much you and I can do anyways, stuck here."

Tifa looked around the room. "Where exactly…?"

Barret sighed. "We're in the Shinra garrison."

"The others?"

"Got away." Barret grinned suddenly. "Cid hijacked the airship, started a whole ass coup. Got the crew on his side."

"How'd you get caught?" Tifa asked.

He gave her a bewildered look.

"Stayed with you, didn't I?" he said. "You really think I'd just leave you for dead?"

Tifa looked away. "Maybe you should have."

Barret had not gotten angry before, but now he got to his feet.

"Shit, Tifa! You're really gonna say that to me? After everything we've been through?!"

He paced, agitated. Tifa watched him. Barret was mumbling under his breath, like he always did when he got worked up. She heard Bigg's name. Jessie's. Wedge's. And more than a few curses.

"Barret."

He continued to pace, ignoring her.

"Barret," she said louder. "I'm sorry, alright?"

He stopped.

"I didn't mean it," Tifa said softly.

Barret sat back down. Tifa reached out to put a hand on his arm. He kept his face averted.

"Thank you," she said. "For staying with me."

Tifa knew Barret well enough at this point that, when he met her eyes, she was not surprised that there were tears in his. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Feels like there's nobody left sometimes, doesn't it?"

Tifa did not answer that. Barret put his hand on top of hers.

"It's not true, though, you hear me?" he told her. "We still got each other. And the others won't just forget about us."

He looked at Tifa cautiously.

"We're not gonna just forget about Cloud either, okay?"

Now it was Tifa's turn to look away.

"Tifa, are we really not gonna talk about him?"

"Barret, Cloud is…" Tifa could not find the words. "He's –"

"Alive."

A voice from the door caused both Barret and Tifa to turn.

"Cloud is still alive. According to Hojo, anyways. We've been waiting for him to show up."

Rufus Shinra stood in the open doorway. Over his shoulder, Tifa saw an entire platoon of Shinra infantrymen. Rufus motioned to them, and they filed into the room, guns pointed at Tifa and Barret.

Barret leapt to his feet, angry again. He stood between Tifa's bed and them. He aimed his gun arm in their direction. Tifa noticed, though, that it was not loaded.

For the first time since waking up, Tifa fully realized their situation. They were prisoners.

"The hell?" Barret growled. "What're you doing here with all that? She just woke up! Hasn't even seen the doctor yet."

Rufus eyed him coolly. "That won't be necessary. If she's conscious, that's enough."

"For what?" Barret shot back.

Rufus did not answer but gave a silent command to the soldiers. They surrounded Barret.

"What is this?" Tifa asked.

She felt suddenly over aware of her weakened limbs. That she was only wearing a flimsy hospital gown. It was less than ideal for fighting. She had no idea where her gloves were. Tifa tried to sit up straight against the pillows.

"Like I said, we've been waiting for Cloud to show. We figured he'd try to save you two. Isn't that what he does?"

Tifa fought not to flinch away from his words. It's what Cloud used to do, she thought. But Cloud would not be coming this time. Her mind, still struggling to fully awaken, could not begin to sort through what had happened with Cloud in the Northern Crater. But Tifa was certain of that much.

"Anyways," Rufus continued. "We figured we would speed things along. Provide some encouragement, if you will."

He nodded at the infantrymen, crowding around Barret.

"Take him away. If he fights back, shoot the girl."

"Now wait a goddamn minute –"

The infantrymen swarmed Barret. He glanced back at Tifa. Concern and anger twisted his face. Tifa could tell that he wanted to fight. Tifa shook her head, just slightly. Even if she could fight, they were hopelessly outnumbered.

"I'll be okay, Barret."

Tifa tried to smile at him, but it felt unnatural on her face. Barret swore under his breath. With effort, he turned away from her. He lifted his arms, aiming his gun arm at the ceiling and opening his hand.

"I'll go quiet," he grumbled. "You can stop pointing your damn guns at her."

They turned their weapons toward Barret, surrounding him as they shuffled out of the room. Barret turned his head over his shoulder before walking through the door. He fixed Tifa with a hard stare.

"This ain't over yet, Tifa, hear me?"

She nodded. Tried to look like she believed him. They left.

The room was now empty, other than Tifa and Rufus. Rufus was watching her, an assessing look in his eyes. It was a neutral look, as if she were a tool with a purpose he had not quite yet determined.

Tifa felt exposed. She tried not to shift uncomfortably on her bed. Attempted to seem anything other than weak. She forced herself not to pull the thin blanket over herself.

For the first time since waking, Tifa felt something other than numb. Anger flooded the hollowness in her chest. It felt good. It made her feel almost strong. She curled her bare hands into fists. Glared at Rufus.

He shrugged carelessly.

"They wouldn't have done it, you know," Rufus said. "Shot you. They knew not to. We have other plans."

"Plans?"

"Something more exciting than dying in a hospital bed."

Tifa looked at him skeptically. "Exciting for who?"

"The public, likely."

Rufus crossed arms and leaned against the wall.

"The people have been restless since Meteor appeared. Since those damn Weapons have started trampling everything in sight. They need someone to blame. To see someone punished."

"And that's me?" Tifa asked.

"You'll do," Rufus replied indifferently. "AVALANCHE has proven to be a useful scapegoat before. And you have plenty of crimes to answer for."

Tifa looked away, disgusted.

Unbothered, Rufus continued. "Your execution will serve dual purposes. We need to turn public opinion to our side. And Hojo insists we need Cloud Strife."

He paused for a moment.

"Or whoever the hell he is."

"He won't come," Tifa said.

"We'll see," Rufus said, his tone neutral.

He won't come, Tifa thought. Tears burned in her eyes, and they stoked her anger again. She held them back.

"What does Hojo want with Cloud?" she asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Rufus replied. "He claims it will be the key in getting to Sephiroth. To getting back into the Northern Crater. To ending all of this."

Rufus snorted.

"But who's to say. When it comes to Hojo, the less I know, the better. So, I don't ask. Frankly, I don't care."

Tifa thought about Nanaki, the branded XIII on his flank. She thought about Aerith. About the sick things Hojo had done to her mother, had planned to do to her. She heard Hojo's voice, calling Cloud a clone. A failure. Asking for his number.

"Perhaps you should," she managed through gritted teeth.

Oh Cloud, Tifa thought. Her heart ached through her fury. What did he do to you? Tifa was not sure what to believe about Cloud. But one thing was clear. Hojo had done something to him. Something terrible.

Tifa turned to Rufus. Her anger felt cold now. It focused her.

"So, you plan to execute me then?"

"That's the idea."

"How will you do it?" she asked. "Blow my brains right over your shoulder?"

She threw his words from before back in his face.

Rufus flinched and then laughed. For the first time since entering the room, he looked at her with something other than disdain. He gave her a once over and shook his head.

"Tempting, but no."

He began to stride the length of the room, fidgeting with something in his hand. A coin. He flipped it through his fingers, tossed it in the air and caught it.

"Scarlett is taking care of it. She has a flare for this kind of thing," he told her, still pacing. "Sounds like she's planning on a real spectacle, something slow. To really draw him out, you know?"

Rufus glanced at Tifa. She returned the look coldly.

"It's not really my thing," he said, voice mockingly apologetic. "But there's no accounting for taste, am I right?"

Tifa scoffed. "You really let everyone else do your dirty work, don't you?

Rufus stopped moving. He took a step closer to the bed.

"Don't give me that."

His voice was serious now, no longer nonchalant.

"What?" Tifa asked.

"Don't sit there, looking at me like that as if you haven't been running around Midgar, blowing up civilians."

Tifa clenched her teeth. Glared at him. Shinra, she thought. I hate them all.

"Blowing up Mako reactors," she corrected. "Trying to save the planet."

"Ah, the end justifies the means. I could say the same about your death. We're more alike than you think."

His words repulsed Tifa.

"I was trying to do the right thing. I didn't want anyone to get hurt or die."

"I'm sure the people who died in Sector Seven would feel so very comforted by that," Rufus sneered.

"We both know that was Shinra, not AVALANCHE," Tifa spat.

"Innocents are always caught in the crossfire. In the end, does it really make a difference who pulled the trigger?"

Tifa paused, considering the question.

"Not to them, I suppose."

She felt tired all of the sudden, the strength of her anger abandoning her. Tifa despised the man standing in front her, blond hair slicked back, dressed immaculately. The arrogant look in his eyes. But she could not claim to have any less blood on her hands than he did.

"You don't have to convince me that I deserve it," she told him.

Her voice had no bite left in it.

"I knew it would happen eventually. That I would have to face everything I've done."

Tifa looked at Rufus. He was watching her curiously.

"You will too, soon enough."

"Perhaps," Rufus shrugged. "But not as soon as you."

Tifa looked back out the window, at Meteor looming in the sky. How long? she wondered. It seemed she might not live to know.

"They'll come get you in about an hour," Rufus said.

For a moment, Tifa did not respond, still looking out the window. She shifted her bare legs under the thin blanket. Tried to imagine herself leaving the hospital room, headed to her death.

"Can I have my clothes back at least?"

The question left her without her meaning to ask it. Tifa cringed at the sound of her own voice. It was small, defeated.

"What does it matter?"

Rufus's reply came quickly, automatic. Tifa did not respond. There was a long silence. After a moment, Tifa heard footsteps headed toward the door.

"Tell the nurses to give her back her things."

Surprised, Tifa turned away from the window. Rufus was talking to a soldier, standing watch just outside the door.

"Make sure she's dressed before they come take her away," Rufus instructed him.

Tifa was wondering whether she could manage to thank Rufus without gagging on the words when Rufus turned back to her and smirked.

"You'll be more recognizable that way when they broadcast the execution."

Rufus left.

Not long after, a nurse came to bring Tifa back her clothes. She offered to help. In truth, Tifa might have needed it. She was shocked at the weakness in her own limbs, the dizziness that overtook her when she stood.

But the nurse could not look Tifa in the eye. And besides, Tifa wanted to be alone.

She managed to get dressed. Back in her own clothes, Tifa felt like herself again. It gave her no comfort. The clothes had been freshly laundered, but they still smelled of mako. It brought her back to the Northern Crater.

As much as she had been avoiding it, it made Tifa think about Cloud. She sat back on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Cloud is still alive. According to Hojo, anyway.

She thought about Hojo's words. Sephiroth's words. Their claims that Cloud was not really Cloud. A Sephiroth clone. A fake, pieced together by Jenova and Tifa's own memories. Tifa could not reason through the lies and truths.

Fine, then. She could not think this through logically. But how did she feel? Tifa assessed.

Easy enough, she felt terrible. Heartbroken. Hopeless.

Tifa tried to focus on her feelings about Cloud. Did she feel that Cloud was not himself? That he was a clone? Barely human, Sephiroth had said. Did she actually believe he might have done the terrible things Sephiroth implied that he did?

No, Tifa's heart answered. And she realized she truly believed it. No. She had no proof of it, in fact had evidence to the contrary. But she knew it in her heart.

Cloud might have given Sephiroth the Black Materia. But Cloud would never have hurt any of their friends. He would not have hurt Aerith. They had all been protective of Aerith. Cloud, especially so. Sephiroth might have tried to force him, but Cloud would have fought it. Tifa had seen him do it.

But even so, was he her Cloud? The boy she had known from Nibelheim, the one she had grown up with? That, Tifa did not know.

Tifa had been lost and lonely when she stumbled across Cloud, seven years after she had last seen him. She had been questioning everything about her life. Cloud had come into her life right when she needed him the most. She had been trapped, in trouble.

Had Jenova taken advantage of that? Read Tifa's memories? Her emotions?

But Tifa, remember? When we met again in Midgar, you knew me. You said my name.

Cloud's words, desperate and hopeful, came back to her. Was that the moment he had become Cloud? When Tifa said his name, had Jenova latched onto her weakness, fed on her memories?

But no, Tifa realized. That was not what happened.

Cloud had said her name first. He had said it twice. Cloud had said her name and looked at Tifa like she was the answer to a question he had not even known how to ask. He had known her, before she had recognized him.

You're Cloud. You must be. The realization felt sad. Heavy. I wish I could be the one to tell you. To help you figure it out.

Tifa had regrets. Rufus had thrown many of them in her face. But as she faced the final moments of her life, this particular regret pained her more than anything. Tifa would not see Cloud again. She had not been able to save him.

A knock came at the door. It was time.